For Want of a Little Mercy
by ackeberlynn
Summary: She continued on, determined. "We don't need to rehash things. We just need to be better." The team finds out that sometimes it takes a tragedy to get our priorities in line. In the aftermath, they learn to forgive and rebuild. Now a WIP. Not a death-fic
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **What follows is a work of fiction, purely for entertainment. Not for profit. I don't own the characters.

**A/N: ** Please don't kill me. I promise I will finish my other two fics. This one demanded to be written first. It is my response to the show's craziness.

**WARNING:** This one-shot is a little darker than my usual fare and contains mature themes. HOWEVER, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I just don't want to offend anyone.

**Sometimes the Whole World Aches for Want of a Little Mercy**

* * *

><p>It had been almost cosmic, the way they had found each other, the way the four of their lives became intertwined – solidified – to form a team, an Ohana.<p>

It was as if the stars had aligned themselves at just the right moment – just for them; as if the unseen hand of a higher power had pulled them together like loose pieces of string braided to form a cord of strength.

They had a bond they thought couldn't be broken.

They had a rhythm that nothing could throw out of sync.

And then…then it had all blown up in their faces.

Steve's arrest for the murder of Governor Jameson had set in motion a series of explosions that, one by one, brought each of them to their knees.

Faith, hope, and an implicit trust in each other, had once been the three elements of their foundation.

For inexplicable reasons, the last few months had left significant cracks in those pillars of support.

Events that should have brought them closer, had only worked to tear them apart.

Five-0 was whole – but it wasn't the same. They weren't unified like they once had been.

And it would take a tragedy before any of them would realize how far they'd fallen.

* * *

><p>It was a full week before they got a break in the case.<p>

Seven days of fear, of not-knowing.

They finally arrived at the warehouse (and why was it always a warehouse?) on the seventh night.

Chin and Weston took the back.

Steve and Kono took the front.

It was quick – the firefight only lasted a few minutes.

Steve left Weston in charge of booking the gunmen and calling for backup while the three other Five-0 officers began the search for Danny.

The fourth door was the charm, swinging open to reveal a tiny, windowless room.

In the middle of the filthy, blood-spattered room stood his partner, with his back against the wall.

A dead man lay at his feet, a bullet hole in his head.

Danny was covered in blood and bruises, and he swayed on his feet. He held a gun in his bound hands, and kept it trained on his three friends as they entered.

At the sight of his friend, Steve quickly holstered his weapon, followed by Chin and Kono.

"Hey Danno – good to see you, buddy," Steve said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Don't come any closer," the detective warned, the gun aimed at Steve's chest.

Something in his tone was…off - too harsh, and a little unhinged.

Steve held his hand up to stop the other two from moving.

"Danny?"

"This gun's got four shots left, and I've got an itchy trigger finger; so if you're thinking of rushing me you can forget it."

At first Steve didn't understand. He could tell, even from a distance and in the dim lighting, that Danny recognized them.

But why was he pointing a loaded gun at him?

Then he looked closer, noting the wild, bloodshot eyes and glazed-over expression on his friend's sweaty, blood-covered face.

His partner must have been drugged with something which was causing the erratic behavior.

He glanced over at Chin, who nodded. He'd noticed, too.

"Hey, we're not gonna come any closer, okay? Just – you look like hell, partner."

"You were too late this time, Superman," Danny called out, almost chuckling.

Steve flinched as if he'd been struck.

"I'm sorry," he said, the words catching in his throat.

Danny didn't acknowledge the apology.

"They killed him. Killed him right in front of me," he mumbled in a hushed, detached voice.

A shiver rippled up Steve's back at his partner's tone. He watched the hand that held the gun tremble violently, and swallowed down the dread.

He knew from combat experience what days of torture and mind-altering drugs could do to a man.

He knew Danny was in a bad place.

"It's gonna be okay, Danny. We're gonna take care of it – just put down the gun, okay?"

It was as if the blonde man didn't hear him.

"I loved that dog. He was the one good thing – the one good thing…." Danny couldn't finish. His face crumpled as tears began to flow down his cheeks.

Steve frowned in confusion, just as Chin nudged him, his normally passive expression replaced with one of unapologetic rage. He pointed to a furry, blood-coated lump in the corner.

It was hard to tell, but from Danny's reaction it had to have been his dog.

How the hell had they kidnapped Danny's dog?

Danny had only been its owner for a couple months, but he'd fallen in love with the animal.

Chin had gone looking for the dog after Danny's disappearance, but assumed it'd run away.

He and Kono had been arguing over who would be the one to admit to losing Danny's dog after they got him back.

Obviously, he'd been wrong.

Steve bit his lip and tried to tamp down on the murderous rage brewing inside of him. He was unsurprised when he drew blood.

Chin stepped forward, keeping his tone as light as he could.

"Hey, Danny. We need to check you over, brah. You're bleeding."

Danny shook his head, swaying dangerously on his feet. "No. No use."

Steve made a move forward, sensing an opportunity, and Danny's head shot up, the gun following.

"Don't do that!"

"Okay – okay. I'm sorry," Steve said, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

"Back up!"

He took a step back, and the gun lowered marginally.

There was a pregnant pause as Steve analyzed their options. He could feel Chin and Kono staring at his back, waiting for him to form some miraculous plan that would save the day.

But he couldn't find a way to intervene without causing risk of serious harm to his partner. He glanced at Chin and shook his head. They would have to talk him down.

"I can't do this anymore," the detective whispered suddenly, staring at the floor.

Steve's eyes widened at the distinctive note of finality in his partner's tone.

"C'mon brother, put down the gun," Steve whispered. "Please."

Danny sniffed loudly before straightening a bit, as if filled with new resolve.

"I d-don't want to do this anymore."

"You don't have to – okay?" Steve replied desperately, his voice breaking with emotion as he watched his partner battle the darkness.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, Danno. Just – just put down the gun so we can talk this out."

"I want you to leave," Danny calmly replied.

Steve could feel his own hands trembling as he reached out, pleading.

"That's the one thing I won't do, partner."

"We know you're hurting, brah. Let us help," Chin added.

Danny gave them a tremulous smile.

"It's too much. S'too late…too much."

Icy dread wrapped itself around Steve's heart. He tried again, his tone more desperate.

"What about Grace Danno? Huh? Think about Grace."

Danny's face crumpled again, a whimper forcing itself past trembling lips, his entire frame shaking with exhaustion and sorrow.

"She's got Rachel and Stan, and a little brother or sister on the way. I hardly ever get to see her, anyway, now. And then when I do, she can't wait to leave again."

He shook his head. "She doesn't need me."

Steve's reply was immediate and forceful. "That's bullshit, Danny, and you know it."

Danny wavered, blinking rapidly through his tears.

"No, I-I…all I do is let her down."

Steve inhaled sharply, the fear-fueled anger warring with the helpless desperation deep within him.

He was losing his friend.

"Grace isn't the only one who needs you, Danny. We need you too, man."

The dazed expression lifted a little at that, the clouds receding from fever-bright eyes.

"Sometimes I think…you guys are the only family I got," Danny whispered, his face wet with tears.

"I can't lose this. I can't lose us."

"You're not going to lose us, Danny," Kono replied softly, worriedly.

"Feels like I already have. S'not the same," Danny said, his breath hitching. "I know it's partially my fault. I've been an asshole to everybody. It just hurts...and I feel alone."

"You're not alone, Danny. We're right here," Chin said, unable to keep the urgency from his tone.

"You're wrong, Chin," the blonde man replied, choking on his tears.

"I mean – what the hell's a-matter with us? Huh? We don't listen to each other anymore. We don't believe in each other. What happened to Ohana?"

Chin could sense Steve tense next to him, and knew the words were affecting him deeply.

"We're still Ohana, Danny," Chin replied. "That hasn't changed."

"Everything's changed," the blonde man retorted. "We just sweep everything under the rug anymore. But hey, I guess that's the new Five-0."

He shifted his stance, making direct eye-contact with Kono.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you during IA's investigation. I was too wrapped up in my own problems to care about anyone else's."

The sincerity in his eyes, the grief, was enough to undo her, and tears spilled down her cheeks as he spoke.

"God – Danno…Danno, please don't do this," Steve's voice was cracking.

He could see it coming, but felt powerless to stop it. Everything within him was screaming at him to run forward and knock the gun out of Danny's hand.

But he wasn't close enough. And Danny was so far gone that any sudden movements could have disastrous results.

Steve wasn't willing to take that chance.

He watched, horrified, as the nightmare unfolded before him.

Danny shook his head miserably, his eyes clouding over again. "M'sorry. I just want t'stop hurting…."

Closing his eyes, he raised the gun to his head in one fluid movement, his body jerking in shock at the instantaneous reactions of his friends.

"DANNY!"

"God – NO!"

"DON'T!"

Hearing their vociferous anguish was enough to give him pause, and he opened tear-filled eyes once again.

It was like waking from a daze, and he could only stare at the scene before him in bewilderment.

Kono had turned to her cousin, who had an arm wrapped her body as she sobbed into his neck. His own face shone with tears as he looked stonily at the wall to their right.

Then he looked at his partner.

Steve's whole body had tensed, and he had taken a few steps forward before clenching his eyes shut in horrified expectation. His hands were in fists at his sides, and pure agony was evident in every line in his face.

What was going on? He had obviously done something to scare his friends, but couldn't think what - his thoughts kept swirling out of reach.

Confused, Danny allowed his arms to drop.

He was suddenly overcome with exhaustion.

"M'sorry," he whispered hoarsely, not even aware of what he was apologizing for.

"M'sorry…I can't..."

Steve rushed forward just as the shorter man's legs gave out, the gun clattering to the ground.

He kicked the offensive object to the side, simultaneously easing his partner's descent to the floor.

Catching Danny under the arms, he maneuvered him so that his upper body rested against his own.

Steve could feel the tremors wracking his partner's too-thin frame, could feel each ragged breath he took, the warmth of a radiating fever and slippery, sweat-soaked skin.

Danny was alive.

"_Jesus_…" Steve whispered, trying to slow his own heart rate. He closed his eyes and tried unsuccessfully to choke back a sob.

It had been too close.

"M'sorry…m'sorry…I don't know...what…." Danny repeated brokenly.

He squirmed restlessly in Steve's arms, tears still streaming down bruised cheeks.

"Shhh…s'okay partner…" Steve's arms tightened around his friend, rocking slightly as his cheek came to rest against the dirty blonde hair.

Kono knelt next to the pair, leaning forward to rest her forehead on his shoulder, her hand reaching out to gently pat Danny's chest.

Chin knelt at their feet, his strong hand resting against the man's thigh.

It was over.

* * *

><p><em>One Week Later….<em>

Danny was on the mend, having been released from the hospital four days after he'd been admitted.

He didn't remember any of his seven days in captivity, but when Steve had told him they'd killed his beloved dog, he'd wept like a child.

According to the doctor, he'd been beaten, concussed, drugged, and forced to stay awake for days.

But his scars would heal with time, and that was all that mattered.

What he didn't understand, was why the team was acting so touchy-feely all of a sudden. There was a closeness, an appreciation of one another, that he hadn't witnessed in months.

There was less sniping, less evading, and more open transparency in their interactions.

Kono was hanging around more, and there was a lightness to her spirit he hadn't seen in months. It was refreshing.

But every once and while he would catch Steve pinning him with a look of concern, and it confused him. He hadn't almost died - he'd only been in the hospital for a few days.

Something else - something horrible - must have happened. And Danny couldn't remember.

"What the hell happened at that warehouse, anyway?" Danny demanded one evening as he sat on the lanai at Steve's house.

They were having a barbeque, just the four of them – just like old times.

Danny wanted to know what had changed.

He watched as his three teammates froze at his question.

"Can't we just be happy to have you back, man?" Steve retorted, trying for levity.

Danny frowned. "No. C'mon, we haven't gotten together like this in months. Not even after everything with Kono. What's the deal?"

Steve winced, dropping the hot dog he'd been trying to balance on a plate.

"Alright, that's it!" Danny thundered. "I am not sitting here another minute unless someone tells me what the hell happened back there!"

It was Kono who finally sat down next to him, taking his rough hand in her own.

"You had been tortured Danny," she softly explained. "When we got there, you were high on a cocktail of barbiturates, and you had a gun in your hand."

Danny blanched. "Oh my god – tell me I didn't shoot someone!"

"No," Steve interrupted quickly. "Nothing like that."

He shared a look with Kono. Between the three of them, they'd already agreed to never tell Danny about all that had transpired that night.

"It's just…you said some things…."

Danny reached up to rub his brow. "Oh geez…what did I say?"

The three teammates shared a look.

Danny about blew a gasket. "What – what is that look? Just spill, already!"

Finally, Chin spoke. "You implied that maybe over the last few months we've been neglecting our Ohana."

The blonde man deflated, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Oh. That's it?"

"That's it, brah."

"So that's what this is all about? Huh?"

Steve shrugged. "Kinda."

"I don't get it. What do you mean, _kinda_?"

Steve licked his lips thoughtfully before replying.

"I thought – maybe we needed time to get stuff out in the open. We haven't really had time to talk about all that's happened; how it's affecting us."

Danny squinted at him in disbelief.

"When the hell did you turn into Doctor Phil, huh? Is this what I did to you? I said something, _while high,_ that made you feel guilty, and now we have to have a team shrink-session?"

"That's about the size of it," Chin replied, sitting down next to him and cracking open a beer.

Danny glared. "This isn't even fair. I can't have alcohol."

"You have Vicoden."

"Not the same thing."

"I just want to try to get back to where we were before," Steve cut in. "That's all."

"Alright, big guy, sounds like you got something you need to get off your chest – so why don't you go first," Danny said, only half-teasing.

Steve sighed.

He opened his mouth to speak...

Only to be interrupted by Kono.

"Steve – wait. We don't need to do this."

The three men just stared at her.

"We all know, deep down inside, the things that we've done that have hurt one another. Am I right?"

Steve looked at his feet.

Danny fiddled with a button on his shirt.

Chin studiously picked at the label on his beer bottle.

Kono knew, even as she tried to ignore it, that they were all feeling guilty. Mostly about their treatment of her, and while the hurt part of her wanted to hear the humble apologies – and if this had happened a week ago, she might have demanded it – things had changed.

Danny had almost died at his own hand.

And even though he'd been tortured and drugged – the things he'd said were too real to be insignificant. Seeing the raw pain on her friend's face had put things jarringly back into perspective.

This was her Ohana. Imperfect? Absolutely. But it was hers.

If she learned anything from Danny's near-death experience, it was just how much they all need each other.

Once she saw Danny, alive and cradled in Steve's arms, Kono's forgiveness had been immediate and absolute.

It wasn't enough though, to merely go on like nothing happened.

There were too many skeletons in their respective closets – too many demons yet to be faced – and she didn't want them carrying around unnecessary guilt.

Kono had to let them know, in her own way, that she had forgiven them.

She continued on, determined. "We don't need to rehash things. We just need to be better."

She saw Steve nod slowly, understanding gracing his features. When their eyes met, his were shining with unshed tears.

Steve wondered if he would ever be able to get the image out of his head of Danny raising a gun to his temple.

No matter what the doctors had said, Steve knew in his heart that some of what Danny was saying and feeling that night had been real.

The man was carrying around some serious pain. He also obviously felt bad about everything that had gone down with Kono.

Steve felt bad too, but it wasn't until Danny apologized to Kono that he realized how wrong he'd been in not addressing it.

Her forgiveness meant the world.

"You mean, like a mulligan?" Danny piped up.

She gave him a sideways glance. "Huh?"

"A mulligan, you know, like in golf. A do-over."

Kono smiled, biting her lip thoughtfully. "A do-over. I like it."

"'Cept there's some things we can't change," he added, a faraway look in his eyes.

For Chin, it was almost surreal.

The moment he'd seen his friend's arm raise, bringing the gun to his head, he knew it was over.

Danny was too far gone - he was ready and willing to pull that trigger.

And then, somehow, it hadn't been the end.

Danny's life had been spared. He'd been given back to them.

They'd all been given a second chance.

And if they spoke a little lighter to one another now, it was only in response to the mercy they'd been shown.

Chin reached out to grip Danny's knee, bringing him back to the present. "Hey, brah. There's always hope."

Kono raised her beer in a toast. "To being better."

Steve raised his own, his face stony with determination. "To being better."

A better partner, a better leader, a better friend.

Chin smiled, clinking his bottle against the other two. "I can drink to that."

"This is _so_ not fair right now," Danny huffed.

The resulting laughter echoed down the beach.

And the stars re-aligned themselves.

_El Fin._

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><p><strong>AN: **Please do share your thoughts. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: Alright, so my one-shots rarely stay one-shots.

This came pretty easily to me. It was inspired by a particular reviewer who thought that Danny should have been told about the gun. So…this is where my mind went.

Again, there are some mature themes hinted at, but nothing graphic like the previous chapter.

I think what I want to do with this is chronicle the healing process for each team member, starting with Danny. I do hope you enjoy.

BIG THANKS to all who take the time to share their thoughts and review – I love you all; you keep me writing.

All mistakes are mine, and I apologize. I usually proofread it multiple times even after it's posted and make changes accordingly if it's needed.

**Chapter 2**: Humility

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><p>Weeks later, Steve was walking past Danny's office at headquarters and happened to glance in.<p>

What he saw gave him pause.

Danny was hunched over some papers, reading intently. But what got Steve's attention was the look on his face, the way his fingers kneaded his forehead as if in pain.

And suddenly, he _knew_.

Heart hammering, he turned and barged right into the detective's office.

"How many times must I ask you to knock?" Danny greeted him, though the words considerably lacked their usual force. He didn't bother looking up.

Steve didn't reply. He merely shut the door quietly and waited.

When the silence finally started grating against his nerves, the blonde man lifted his head with a sigh.

"Wow. You're standing at attention _and_ you have aneurysm face. Impressive," he commented dryly.

The former SEAL just stood there, his face a stoic mask.

Realizing Steve wasn't going to take the bait, Danny sighed again, leaning back in his chair.

"Did you really think I wouldn't look?" He asked quietly.

Steve's jaw muscle twitched as he stared stubbornly at spot somewhere between the floor and the top of Danny's desk.

"Now would be a really good time to start explaining yourself, Steven," Danny suggested, a hint of irritation in his tone.

Steve took a deep breath.

"We just thought…we didn't want…." His mouth slammed shut once he realized he was stammering.

Danny waited patiently, pinning his friend with an intense look.

Then, finally: "I didn't know how to tell you."

Danny rubbed one hand roughly over his mouth, and then stood. The fingertips of his other hand lightly brushed the open files on his desk, and Steve couldn't help but notice their trembling. He turned so as to look out the office window, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"You should have told me," he said hoarsely.

Steve was at a loss. "Danny – I didn't know how."

The shorter man whirled around, eyes flashing. "So you just left me to read it off a freaking report? In what _universe_ is that the better option? Huh?"

Steve shrugged miserably and looked away.

"Here, you wanna hear what Kono wrote? Hm?"

Without waiting for a response, Danny ripped a file up from his desk and began reading aloud, his tone agitated, his hands still trembling.

"'When I entered the room, I observed that Detective Williams was injured and bound. He was holding a gun, and seemed very nervous. Detective Williams kept the gun trained on us and would not let us approach him. At one point, I observed Detective Williams put the gun to his temple. However, after we called out to him, he dropped the weapon…"

Danny glanced up from his reading and stopped abruptly.

Steve was standing with his eyes clenched shut, his hands in fists at his side.

The detective swallowed and let the file drop back onto the desk.

"Hey," he called out, his tone breathy and remorseful.

Steve opened suspiciously bright eyes to look at his partner.

"It was too close, Danno," he said roughly; then turned away, blinking furiously.

Danny sighed. He slowly walked up until he was standing in front of his partner and reached out to gently tug the front of his polo shirt.

"Hey. C'mere."

He opened his arms wide, a little surprised when the former SEAL reciprocated without comment.

"I'm sorry," Danny mumbled into the taller man's shirt.

"It wasn't you," Steve replied, his chin digging into the blonde man's shoulder.

After a few moments, the two men pulled away from each other, Steve arranging his face into a carefully neutral expression and folding his arms in front of his chest; and Danny clearing his throat loudly before stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Listen. I gotta talk to you about something," Danny said, staring studiously at his shoe.

Steve nodded once. "Okay; shoot."

Danny exhaled loudly, then ran a hand through his hair. "I think I need to sit down to talk about it."

"Okay," Steve replied, drawing the word out a bit in confusion. "Is here good?"

He gestured to Danny's couch.

Danny turned and sat without answering, leaning forward to grip the edges of the couch and rocking slightly. He could feel his partner staring at him in concern.

Steve sat a little away from the blonde man, sensing he needed space for whatever he was about to say. He adopted a casual position, leaning forward so he could easily see Danny's face, his elbows resting loosely on his bent knees.

"What's going on, Danno?" he prompted quietly.

He watched with growing concern as Danny brought his hands together in his lap and began restlessly picking at his thumb.

"I've been in a bad place these last few months," the blonde man admitted.

Steve just stared.

"I didn't…I didn't know how to express it. Guess I didn't want to."

He felt the warmth of his partner's hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, man; I get it. I know it hasn't been easy on you –"

"No, you _don't_ get it," Danny insisted, finally raising his head to look his partner in the eye.

Whatever Steve saw on his face made him pull his hand from Danny's shoulder.

When he spoke again, his tone was firm: "Okay, you need to start talking to me straight, right now. What's going on with you?"

Licking his lips, Danny tried again.

"I haven't been…dealing well...with everything. There are times…I sit alone in my apartment…and I just…."

He looked down at his hands, which sat in his lap palms up, fingers slightly overlapping.

Steve looked too, and could picture all too easily in mind his partner sitting by himself on his crappy couch in his tiny apartment, staring at the 9mm cradled in his hands.

The horror of that thought overwhelmed him, and he reached out one-handed to clutch Danny's wrist.

The palms closed into fists.

"Reading those reports – it scared the shit out of me," Danny admitted; then looked up at Steve with eyes shining with unshed tears. "I think I need help, man."

Abruptly, Steve stood to pace, rubbing his face with both hands.

He turned to Danny. "You'd been tortured and drugged out of your mind."

"It wasn't you," he insisted, as if trying to convince himself.

"Hey, I'm not saying I'd ever go through with it. I'm just trying to be honest here and say that I've thought about it. You think it scares _you_? Well, I've been in my head, and it sure as hell scares me."

"Why didn't you come to me?" Steve asked, his face scrunched up in anger and hurt. "You never told me it was that bad."

"Because! Maybe I figured everybody already had their own shit to deal with, and I didn't want to be a drama queen, alright? Maybe I don't like to admit that I have issues and my life is a pathetic wreck. Maybe I was just a teeny bit afraid of losing my job which, irony of ironies, is the only thing keeping me sane right now. Or maybe I'm just a stubborn sonuvabitch, I don't know – there are a million reasons I could give you and none of 'em would be good enough!" During the course of the rant, Danny had gotten to his feet, his face red, arms flailing as his voice raised several decibels.

He stopped suddenly, and stood with one hand on his hip, the other cupped loosely over his eyes.

He sighed, dropping his hand to look directly at his partner. "I should've come to you."

"Yeah, you should've."

"I'm sorry."

The two of them stood, squaring off, for a few moments until Steve finally uncrossed his arms.

"So when you say you want help – exactly what do you have in mind?"

Danny's shoulders slumped. He suddenly felt exhausted.

"I have no idea. If I knew what I needed, I probably would have gotten it myself already."

Steve leaned forward to put his hand again on his friend's shoulder.

"It's okay. I can figure something out, maybe some counseling – "

"Don't you put me with some mook!" Danny warned.

Steve frowned, sidetracked by his partner's outburst. "Mook?"

"Yeah, a mook is a contemptible, incompetent person."

The taller man looked baffled.

"Do you seriously memorize the dictionary in your off hours?"

"Shut up. I have a large vocabulary, and I'm not afraid to use it."

Steve shook his head, and the mirth faded to be replaced with the former solemnity.

"I won't set you up with a mook, Danny, but I have to know you're serious about this."

"'Course I am. One-hundred percent."

Steve gave his partner a critical look before continuing. "If this is going to work, as your partner and your boss, I'm gonna have certain conditions."

Danny waited, eying Steve suspiciously.

"Meaning, if you don't follow through, I'll put you behind a desk."

"As if I don't have enough paperwork to do already," Danny snarked.

Steve frowned. "I'm serious, Danny. I'll do what HPD does and suspend you pending a full psych evaluation if I have to, and it'll go in your permanent file."

"Did I not just tell you that this job is all I have?" Danny replied, a little panicky.

"Yeah. That's your incentive. That, and Grace."

He paused. "Okay?"

Danny sighed. "Okay. Yeah. I know I need this."

Steve reached out and put a hand on each of the shorter man's shoulders, forcing him to look up at him. "One more thing – no more shutting me out, Danno."

Danny swallowed hard; then nodded. "I'll try."

The taller man shook his head.

"All the shit we've been through the past year and a half…you're family, Danny. Hell, you're like the brother I never had. You can come to me with anything."

"I know…I just…I know."

"Next time you're sitting alone in your apartment and it all starts getting to you – call me." He squeezed the shoulders for emphasis. "Promise me you'll call me. Anytime."

Danny nodded, blinking back tears. "I will. I will."

A momentarily distressed look crossed Steve's face as he thought once again about how close he'd come to losing his friend.

Though if this was what it took to help his friend heal from all the crap life had thrown at him, to get him to open up about all the hurt he'd been bottling up inside, he was grateful.

Wordlessly, he pulled Danny into another hug.

"Thanks man," he heard the shorter man whisper thickly.

Moments later, the two men pulled away to compose themselves.

Grasping for levity, Steve scratched his head and purposefully made a face.

"You know it's funny; you always joked that _I_ was the one in need of therapy."

Danny's eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

"Joked? _Joked_? No, no, no. When I said that I was not joking, Steven…."

_El Fin._

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><p><strong>AN**: Thoughts?


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